


Never To Part; Lest Jealous Heaven Stole Our Hearts

by diggingthegrave



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M, Inquisition AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:38:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2727542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diggingthegrave/pseuds/diggingthegrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt by lisuli79 on tumblr: </p><p>"Hans is the inquisitor priest and Elsa is kept in the dungeons, charged with witchcraft for her ice powers. But then he finds out how gorgeous she is and try to make her escape."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She was Divinity's creature that kissed in cold mirrors

_“Firstly when the faith is in question, there must be no delay; but at the slightest suspicion, rigorous measures must be resorted to with all speed. Secondly, no consideration is to be shown to any prince or prelate, however high his station.”_

-          _Cardinal Giovanni Caraffa_

 

The moon hanged like a malicious portrait above the pitch black night sky, as soft winds whispered through the trees surrounding the castle and its gates. A series of urgent knocks on the wooden door startled and woke up the King and Queen, who hastily made themselves presentable before opening it. Kai, the castle’s most loyal steward, wore a grim look on his face.

“You Majesty… I am deeply sorry”. Kai bowed his head and didn’t dare to look up again, and it was only then that the King could make the dark massive shapes behind him. Sudden realization dawned of him, and he knew it before the steward spoke the next words with a stutter and a choke.

“They have come for her”.

\---

“Father, aren’t you coming?” the small framed deacon brought the young Father Hans Westergard back from his reverie, as the priest admired the monumental construction before them. The Cathedral stood by at least 235 feet tall, surrounded by an expanse of green lawn, sprawled across its site with many projecting limbs. As closest to the Heavens as one man might dream he could get in a lifetime on earth.

They both crossed the large entrance to enter the vault, the interior expanding horizontally until they reached the gallery, where they found the Cardinal of Weselton already waiting for them. The deacon bowed at the waist and kissed his ring, turned around and left. Father Westergard replicated his actions and the Cardinal cleared his throat.

“Father, I’m sure you’re aware you were brought here to assist us in dealing with this specific case of heresy that came into the light of the Lord upon His Church”, the Cardinal of Weselton commented with a bored voice.

“Yes, Your Eminence. But if I may ask… why was I summoned, exactly?”

The Cardinal took a long breath and scrutinized the red haired man. “You acquired a certain fame of dealing with like cases without the resort of… physical coercion”. Hans nodded.

“And in this one, we cannot risk it, not yet anyway, for not only she is a high born but she possesses a kind of… weird, unnatural ability we shall not risk to upset. But hear me now, we must, by all means, get her to confess her heretic, witchcraft ways. Then, and only then, we shall condemn her to the stake”.

“She’s a royal?” he blinked in surprise. Never have the Church succeeded in condemning a royal.

Not until now.

“She’s a princess. From the Kingdom of Arendelle. She surrended without a fight, while her sister cried in agony but her parents… they knew. They understood”.

Hans listened to the Cardinal very carefully.

 _“Of woman came the beginning of sin, and thanks to her, we all must die_. She must burn, Father. Do you understand this?”

“I understand, Your Reverence. I shall do whatever it takes to bring this woman into the Truth of Our Lord Jesus Christ the Savior, and she will face the consequences of her disobedience before His Godly Laws”.

“God revels in your loyalty. But beware, my son, for Lucifer wears many a faces, but often it is the mask of irresistible Beauty”. The Cardinal of Weselton stretched a hand after giving his final advice. The priest bowed again, kissed it, and turned around, walking back to the Cathedral doors.

He must now prepare for the battle to come.

\---

The tap of his boots on the stone floor was the only sound that could be heard while he descended into the dungeons inside the entrails of the Cathedral. The foul scent of rotting flesh, dried blood and fresh vomit infected his nostrils. The gruesome sickly screams and wails from those poor tortured souls crept into his ears and made him nauseated more than the smell could ever do.

The cell she was put in was miniscule and since it was deep rooted within the building, ventilation and illumination were impossible to achieve, but at least it seemed clean enough. No place to lie down except the floor, but she had the privilege of having a stool to sit. _Good thing it is to be a royal_ , he bitterly mused.

He took the key and twirled around his fingers for a moment before he placed it into the keyhole and twisted, opening the heavy iron door with a loud ghastly creak, matching the screams coming from the other cells.

Her back was turned to him; he noticed she still wore her nightgown. Did she not want to change clothes or wasn’t given the chance? He shook his head just an inch, cleared his throat and started.

 “Excuse me, Lady Elsa…”

The air seemed to thicken before she responded.

“Princess.”

Still she didn’t turn.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Until my trial is over and I am convicted, I am still the rightful heir to King Agdar of Arendelle. Therefore, I shall be addressed as such”. Her voice was steady but strangely soothing, much like a siren song.

“I ask for forgiveness then, Your Highness”. The corner of his mouth twitched, a smile threatening to creep, but this was not the time to give in. She had character; that much he had to admit.

“Never would I suspect the clergy was in possession of such disposition for good humor. But then again, I must be mistaking this irony you’re showing me for gaiety”.

It was like time stood still when she finally decided to turn around and face him.

And he knew the moment he saw her face that he belonged to her.

A few loose strands of pale blond hair framed her thin features; her blue eyes were glimmering like a puddle of melted ice dropping from fresh leaves into a pond. Her lips were of a healthy color, full like rose petals blossoming in the spring.

She shone like moonlight beaming from a cloudless night sky.

The deep clank of metal resonating through the small cell brought him back to reality. His eyes darted down; her hands were restrained with iron manacles, chained to the cell floor and long enough for her to rest her arms beside her body but not for her to lift her arms.

“Never in my sound mind would I behave so poorly. My apologies were honest, Your Highness. To offend you is not something I want”. He bowed his head and lifted his hand to his heart.

“And may I ask what is it you want, _Father_?” the venomous tone was not lost to him.

He straightened back and locked his gaze with hers. The words were somber; he knew he could not falter. “I believe you are more than aware of the reason I am standing before you here”.

“I will not confess to crimes I did not commit.”

“You know this isn’t about what you have done; but about what – no – _who_ you are”.

“And _what_ is it that I am?” her lips twitched. She was sneering.

“Your accusations are not a laughing matter, Princess Elsa”.

“I will die anyway, Father”. Her eyes went to the stool; and then to the floor. “Your Church will do whatever it takes for me to die.”

Hans was at a loss of words, and in silence they stood for minutes that seemed like hours, or even days. The sound of her breath was crushing him.

“I told my sister everything would be alright, but I knew it wasn't. I was never returning to her.”

She was a dream-like nymph with eyes of a nightmare.

“I’ve always known you'd come for me. I was just waiting.”

“And why is that?”

“Feigned innocence does not quite match your soutane, Father”.

“But I guess eluding a serious interrogation is a skill attained from royal cradle, is it not?”

Her voice grew louder, and something flashed in her eyes, so fleeting he would never know what it was.

“I am _not_ a circus attraction, Father. I am human, and I was graced with this gift by God Himself. Why would I take it for granted? No, I chose to embrace it; understand it is part of me just as my arms, my legs, my eyes, my lips. Is it a sin already, to have been born with all those traits? No, I believe it isn't. And that is precisely why I would never admit to something I'm not guilty of, especially if it's not something to feel guilty to begin with.”

He swore the temperature dropped for a moment.

But as quickly as she snapped she regained composure.

“He was there. The night they took me; he was there”.

“Who?”

“His Eminence, the Cardinal of Weselton”. Her voice got caught up in her throat and he fought every nerve to not step forward and drape his arms around her.

The princess inhaled sharply. “I was dragged here in the deep dark of the night for him to show me every piece of device he will use to torture me himself, as he so lively stated. I can only imagine he sent you here to coax a confession out of me until the commotion of my arrest faded away”.

How could she know?

“So you see, _Father_ … whether I’ll admit it or not, he will have me at the stake. The only thing I’ve got to choose is how violated will I want to be when that day comes”.

The priest looked devastated. “Why would he do such a thing?” he said incredulously.

Despite everything, the princess curved her lips up in a sad smile.

“Why, indeed?”

\---

Frantic knocks woke the deacon with a startle. Who could ever be at this hour? He rose wiggling from his bed and took a few steps until he reached the door.

The loud bangs were almost tearing down the thick wood.

“F-Father Westergard? What are y---”

The priest caught the deacon by the collar with both fists, lifting him off the floor. “Has His Eminence _ever_ been in the princess cell? Even before he summoned me?”

The deacon blinked a few times and swallowed hard. “F-Father, w-what are you talking about?”

“Has he?”

It took a few persistent shakes for the deacon to finally admit. Everything the princess told him was true except one thing she wasn’t aware of yet: The Cardinal of Weselton planned on returning to her _tonight_.

Hans threw the deacon on the floor and ran back to his chambers. Beads of warm sweat streamed down his forehead, and he felt a clutch in his chest unlike anything in his life.

He couldn’t allow them to touch her.

She was not a witch, she was not the Devil. She was just a young woman too proud to admit her worst fear has come to life.

She was going to be tortured and brutally murdered without a chance to defend herself.

All he ever believed to be truth was falling apart in front of him. His own faith mocked him. With his head between his hands, he thought about all those people he helped the Church to find and confess and kill, and the wound inside his heart grew larger. They were all innocent people, poor people, dying horribly and painfully for no other reason than… sheer terror.

He will not allow them to touch her.

\---

The rattling of keys was deafening inside the quietude of the cell. Elsa flinched an inch before straightening her back, and sighed lowly before the screech of the heavy door gave way its opening.

“Coming for the _ice witch_ at the _witch_ _hour_ … how cunning of you, Your Eminence”. The amusement in her voice was unmistakable, but the almost imperceptive trembling in it hid how scared she felt. She was facing the wall, shining amongst the shadows.

“Except that it’s not him”.

She spun around swiftly and vigorously, hair whipping her cheeks with the sudden movement. Widening her eyes like a helpless prey before its predator, she stuttered. “Y-you? W-what…”

He held a pile of what it seemed to be folded clothes. Crossing the door frame he walked a few steps until he was standing in front of her. Stretching his arms to pass the pile to her, he whispered: “I’m here to get you out”.


	2. Until those who couldn't have her cut her free of this world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, finally, the final chapter. I don’t know what to say, except thank you all so much for your support, this fic was beautiful and fun - but also painful, so painful - to write!

_"All wickedness is but little to the wickedness of a woman. […] What else is woman but a foe to friendship, an unescapable punishment, a necessary evil, a natural temptation, a desirable calamity, domestic danger, a delectable detriment, an evil nature, painted with fair colours! [...] Women are by nature instruments of Satan -- they are by nature carnal, a structural defect rooted in the original creation."_

_\- Malleus Maleficarum, 1485-86_

They were rushing through the maze of hidden tunnels inside the Cathedral. If they're lucky enough, the path they chose will lead them right outside a thick clump of trees by the far end of the massive construction, giving at least a few days in advance before the henchmen are gathered and sent to find - and kill them.

Elsa's too much in state of shock to say anything, elated and terrified at the same time, clutching Hans' hand a little too strongly.

He doesn't mind it though; he feels safe as long as she is safe, in some measure anyway. Once they get outside, it's another thing. He can only hope they don't get caught sooner than that.

\---

The solid canopy of leaves stood tall above their heads, shielding them from the light of the full moon. He felt a little safer now, at least to stop running and walk instead, to catch their breaths.

Elsa didn’t have the time to change so she just donned a heavy cloak he arranged for her over the arendellian dark blue nightgown and slippers. He dropped his cassock and was now wearing a simple pair of breeches and a worn-out linen shirt with his old but comfortable boots.

He was never coming back to Church. Not when he had found her. Not when she agreed to run away with him.

“Can we… stop now? For just a moment?” she asked tentatively. She was exhausted.

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course. I’m sorry”. He squeezed her arm and led her to a small clearing inside the trees. He spread a wool blanket over the dirt and motioned for her to sit down.

He sat next to her, and fumbled through a bag and took out a small chunk of cheese and hard bread. They ate their share in comfortable silence, listening only to the ruffle of the foliage and the high pitched song of the crickets.

He surveyed around and began to think that maybe, just maybe, they had a shot at this.

Maybe God would listen to his plea and work on their favor.

"You didn't have to do this; you didn't have to throw your whole life away... because of me". Her voice was only above a whisper.

He snickered, and turned to look at her. Pushing a strand away from her face, he asked her: "Do you believe we can start anew? Anywhere?"

Her eyes darted to his lips, and then back, holding his gaze. "Yes".

"Then I have no place for things such as regret". She smiled. “You know my name, but I never learned yours”.

“Hans. My name is Hans Westergard. Does it mean I get to call you Elsa now?”

She tilted her head and smiled sweetly at him. “Until we leave this place, yes”.

This brought him back to the situation at hand. Will this nightmare ever end?

“This reminds me… we must hurry”.

“There is one last thing I wanted to do”. She leaned even closer. “If that's alright with you, _Father_ ”. She sounded happy. She _was_ happy, he had no shred of doubt about it.

“Of course it is, _Your Highness_ ”, he chuckled.

That was the last time they called each other like that.

Her small hands took his as she turned them with the palm facing up. She looked at him, eyes shimmering with the threat of tears. Nevertheless, she was smiling.

“You might as well know the truth”.

And then he felt a sudden cold gust of wind inside his palms, and when he looked down he could not believe the little flurry forming between their hands. She turned hers up and the flurry exploded in million tiny snowflakes, swirling around them for a moment before vanishing into the air.

She lowered her head and took a deep breath, and he understood it then.

He was the first person she's ever shown this outside of her family.

Hans couldn’t fight the urge burning through his veins and rattling his bones anymore, and reached a hand to tuck a curled finger under her chin. When she lifted her head, he brushed her cheek before closing the distance and capturing her mouth with his.

Her soft gasp parted her lips and he changed the angle to deepen the kiss, running his hand from her neck to the back of her head. Her hair felt like silk.

Her trembling hands roamed across his chest, heaving deeper as she got closer and their joined lips got rougher, all teeth and tongues and unspoken need. His other hand ran down reaching the small of her back and he leaned her down over the blanket. They broke the kiss and stared at each other for a moment, gasping for air. Her fingers started pulling the strings of his shirt, as he grasped the hem of her nightgown, lifting and brushing the softness of her thigh. As more of her skin was revealed, the more he felt like the temperature was dropping. She smiled at him, and closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. “I’m nervous, not worried”, she said. Then she took his face in both hands and brought him down into a reassuring kiss.

After that, they only parted long enough to get rid of the rest of their clothing.

She bloomed before him like a wild rose on a hill by the sea; spreading and welcoming his warmth as their skins touched again; steam rising between them. She laughed between his lips when her back softly hit the ground, as he took his time to commit to memory all of her curves with his fingertips.

She was so cool to the touch and he was pure heat.

He watched as he first entered her; a slow thrust, filling her lazily as she stretched to welcome him further. Even with threatening tears stinging the back of her eyes, she never felt more complete, finally at peace with herself and the entire world around her.

Because all she could see – and feel – around (and inside) her was _him_.

They fitted and blended perfectly, hands roaming as lips left wet trails across whatever they could reach, whimpering in pure abandon as bliss coiled deep inside their cores, and he was filling her up even more as he rolled on his back and she was on top of him, milky white legs clasped right around his waist, riding him slow and steady, slow and steady, as if time stood still.

As if they were bound together for eternity.

Or at least until her walls clamped around him and he came undone inside her.

But she remained on his lap, their parted lips barely touching, breathing each other in. His hands traced the curve of her spine up and down and up again, as he tilted his head and planted kisses along the column of her neck and the sharpness of her jawline.

Her eyes were closed and she was smiling, threading her fingers in the sweaty tangles of hair on the back of his head. Her other hand rested on his shoulder, and moved just an inch as he ducked to plant feather-like kisses on the valley of her breasts.

She was the first to break the comfortable silence. “Do you believe in Heaven? Or in Hell?”

He pondered for a moment. What did he really believe now? He never questioned anything before, but he surely won’t start questioning things when he held her so close.

 “I believe… Heaven's this exact moment. Heaven's right here. You, in my arms. That's what I believe”.

She sighed.

“Is it too much to ask for us to be forever like this? I want us to be forever like this”.

He lifted his head to lock eyes with her. The shudder in her voice could have betrayed her, and his response could have deceived both of them, but right now, it was all they needed to hear.

"We will".

\---

All too quickly it had happened; not leaving room for him to even think about fighting back.

Her gutted shriek as dark, tall cloaked men shoved her away from him was the last thing he heard before being thrown to the ground, his arms forced behind him as another group shackled his hands. Propelled on his knees, Hans was still trying to figure it out until he saw the man who started all of this:

The Cardinal wore a vicious grin, glancing between the fallen priest and the allegedly ice witch; both of them still naked, both of them panting.

Panting with hatred, this time.

“The Church is most pleased with your efforts, Hans Westergard. This is much of a proof I’ve been waiting for conviction. No need to call for a trial anymore”.

He turned his back and proceeded to walk away. Looking back over his shoulder one last time, he snickered.

“That is, for _both_ of you”.

\---

He didn’t know how long it has been; his throat was sore as he coughed blood to the floor – the evidence he’s been screaming her name, pleading for her, terrified of what she was suffering in their hands. He didn’t care for him, didn’t care for his life; he just wanted to spare her, to free her, to protect her.

He didn’t even know how much time has passed.

He was useless locked up down there.

He was useless even if he was still acting under the Church’s name.

The loud clang on his cell door startled him to his feet, only to be yanked down again because the restraints were too damn short.

He fought against them and fought against the two heavy men who came to fetch him; he fought because he was afraid; afraid of never seeing her again, never knowing what they’ve done to her.

But he would; and that’s when he stopped struggling, when one of the two burglars muttered the dreadful words:

“It’s time”.

\---

The spectacle had been formed: the mass gathered around the square left virtually no room and people kept elbowing the other for a chance to see the execution not only of a convicted witch but also of a disgraced member of the clergy.

A huge pyre stood tall over the square, facing the Cathedral. Hans was taken to a platform on the opposite side; where he was shoved to his knees. With his hands bound behind him, he lost balance and lunched forward – a tight grip on his hair forced his back straight again for him to face the pyre.

They wanted him to watch.

She was brought soon after; at least they had the decency of putting what it seemed to be a burlap sack over her body, instead of leaving her bare for the crowd to cheer and spit on. _Good thing it is to be a royal_. Tears were streaming down his cheeks now. He didn’t bother with anything else anymore.

The Cardinal beamed and gloated; never in his life had he commanded an execution, but this, this was his personal victory: a royal _and_ a confirmed magical being, all in one.

Hans had to believe in Heaven and Hell.  She couldn’t die for nothing.

And the Cardinal should have all the pain he deserved.

The hateful man approached the princess tied to the mast. Her piercing blue eyes stared defiantly.

They won’t defeat her.

“I might have not extorted a single sound from you, witch, but mark my words: when the fire starts licking your fair skin, I will hear you scream for mercy. You will scream before you burn”.

She closed her eyes and inhaled, filling her chest with air before puffing it out in a sneer.

“You will never hear me cry. Your Eminence, don’t you see?”

She then looked across the square, searching. When she found him, they locked eyes, with unfulfilled promises and unspoken declarations.

But it didn’t matter anymore, as her eyelids closed and she lifted her chin to the sky; a small, sad smile graced her lips right before the fire was lit.

“Nothing burns like the cold”.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Cradle of Filth's "Her Ghost In The Fog", song that inspired this writing. Hope you enjoy! :)


End file.
